Black Dawn
by TrailingEducation
Summary: A game of chess always starts with a first move. A word; an action; a bloodline. In this game, it starts with a note, delivered late at night. When a demon from Sebastian's past returns to the mortal world to help unravel a dark plot for Ciel's life, it soon becomes apparent that the past does not often stay there. [AU, M/M].
1. The Midnight Messenger

**Black Dawn**

He had not meant to sleep in.

Ciel had woken on his own – an unusual circumstance, and one his butler would have never allowed to happen, had he not sent him on an errand that required a more sophisticated touch. He deigned to dress himself, and so when he entered his study his string bow-tie was askew and his laces were uneven, the ends of his shoes scuffed from a slight trip on the stairs the previous night. He settled in his comfortable leather chair and watched while the tendrils of a new, bitter winter morning filtered in, touching each and every dusted book cover stuffed in the shelves, highlighting the shine of polished furniture and the silver fountain pens that laid atop his desk.

Mey-Rin delivered his tea on a tray. It shook and veered from side-to-side, and he watched as small drops of hot water flew out of the spout and dissipated in the air. She stopped just a scant foot in front of him and bowed several times over, her jittery voice and overly round glasses like that of a character in a penny dreadful.

"Your tea, master!" she announced. Ciel nodded, and the maid started to pour a cup with her shaking hands. He often wondered how she managed to tie her bonnet over her red hair or even press her own clothes without injuring herself. Out of the corner of his eye, the earl caught sight of a white envelope, unsealed, and he reached out to take it.

"Who delivered this?" He questioned as he turned it over in his hand.

"I don't know, my lord," she replied. "Finn found it in one of the hedges this morning, and he only took a small peek before he saw your name and brought it right in."

"Was it unsealed when he found it?" Ciel slipped the note, for it was not sizable enough to be considered a letter, out from its sheath and held it up to the light.

"That it was, master."

It had the light scent of perfume; not that of a woman's, but a man's, and the earl fancied it a rather unique fragrance. An earthy musk with a note of something _other_, but not any ingredient he could recall.

"Unusual." He acknowledged. Then he added, in the same even voice, "Sebastian would have found and questioned the messenger by now."

There was a slight panic in Mey-Rin's movements when he spoke. She stilled, the teacup in her hand teetering precariously in its saucer, before he waved dismissively and set the note at his side. "The tea, Mey-Rin."

She let out a sigh of relief, setting her burden down before him. Ciel noted the ring of dark water staining the bottom of his saucer, and he closed his eyes with a quiet, frustrated huff. Once he had seen her leave the room, he picked up the cup and took a small sip.

_Weaker than Sebastian's, _he thought.

The note sat at his side for a long moment as he prepared himself to read it. A midnight messenger was never a good sign, and their presence in his home led to some small offence, for it was his kingdom and no one – not even shadowed couriers – was welcome to flounce his authority.

Ciel reclined in his chair and picked it up. With a cool nonchalance, he unfolded the note with one hand while the other held his tea aloft.

His eyes widened. The grip around that dainty handle loosened, and before he knew it the cup had fallen and he heard, distantly, as it smashed against the floor. He was not even aware of the tea splattering his socks. Ciel leaned forward in his seat, his palm pressed down on his desktop, while his fingers tightened around the note as though it would disappear if he released it.

"Sebastian, come back – that's an order!"

* * *

"Hm."

Sebastian held out his hand to Ciel, who had left the study in favour of his drawing room. The note sat on the coffee table beside a new platter of tea, its edges frayed, and the earl's clothes had been straightened, as befit his status. Ciel thought he would never have that scent out of his nose.

"May I, my lord?"

He passed the note to him. Sebastian held it up to read it, and in that moment, dressed in his tail-coat and impeccably clean butler's attire, the child could almost convince himself that he was an ordinary human. But of course there was the jet-black hair, and the eyes that were almost crimson, and his pale porcelain-like skin – and the memories. The memories never faded.

_** Earl Phantomhive,**_

_** The cat catches the crow.**_

_** 1885.**_

"Interesting." The demon brought it closer to his face and sniffed. A small smile came to his lips, but he did not open his eyes as he folded the paper up. "Very interesting indeed. But I'm afraid I don't understand—"

"Eighteen-eighty-five," Ciel interrupted. He had his cheek propped against his fist, staring out of one of the high-arched windows that overlooked his estate. "The year of my parents' murder. The year we formed our contract."

The butler paused. He drew closer, until he stood beside him, then bowed to refill his teacup.

"When you first appeared to me, you took the form of a crow."

"All rather circumstantial, no, my lord?" Sebastian straightened with the teapot in his hand. His expression held his usual scepticism, but Ciel had learnt to read the subtle amusement in his smile; a tell-tale sign that he knew, or at least suspected, more than he revealed.

"Circumstantial?" Ciel scoffed. "An unsealed letter referencing both the date of my parents' deaths and a crow, left to be found by my servants rather than delivered to me through the proper channels. I find it difficult to believe all of that is circumstantial. So, it stands to reason that whoever wrote this knows of your true nature; and that this 'cat' is capable, at least in their eyes, of challenging you. Perhaps even defeating you."

Sebastian offered him a small smile as he returned the pot to its place. "That would imply this 'cat' is strong enough to battle a demon, which seems absurd, does it not?"

"I don't know, Sebastian," Ciel turned to face him. His single blue eye stared at him without wavering, and for a moment it seemed as if even his eyepatch accused him. "Does it?"

There was a pause. The butler matched his lord's stare for a beat that spanned seconds but felt much longer, before he broke their match by bowing low, his back straight and his voice calm. "What would you have me do, master?"

"Look into this matter for me," the earl took his teacup and reclined into his armchair. "Follow any line of inquiry that you find."

"_Any_ line, my lord?"

"Yes, no matter how 'absurd' it may seem. Take the note with you." He said. "If someone knows this much about us – that you aren't what you appear to be – it implies a deeper knowledge of the events behind that night. It's vital that we find this person and force that knowledge out of them."

"Yes, my lord."

"Go now."

Sebastian straightened and departed the room in a flash of movement too fast for the mortal eye to track. Silence descended in his absence, broken only by Ciel's sips of tea.


	2. A Cat's Offer

It was rare for a demon to be summoned; and rarer yet for one so ancient to hear it, echoed across the barriers that separated the human world from his own. Two centuries had passed since he had crossed over. He had no desire to return, resigned to his self-imposed seclusion, the fate he had chosen for himself, but the ritual had been powerful. He had had no choice.

He returned to his home many days later, exhausted and ashamed. To snap and twist the bindings of such a summoning had required all of his energy, and he was much diminished from the proud demon he once was. As he stood at the tear – the gate that had functioned for ages as the sole breach in their world – he repeated the words he had said over and over in his mind.

"That's not how our contracts work."

But even though he strained, he could no longer hear the ritual, nor the voice of the man who had called out to him. His escape had left his captors in disarray. He was full, but the taste was bitter and unsatisfying; souls not worth consideration. It was the past. He had duties to tend to.

So he watched, and he waited.

* * *

Sebastian returned to Ciel's side in the late afternoon. The sunlight had turned amber, and even the cold of winter could not encroach on the living room as a fire roared in the marble, geometric fireplace, logs crackling as embers flew up and drifted on the air. The woodsmoke mingled with the smell of Bardroy's cooking. Ciel ate a meal of poached salmon, and he acknowledged his butler's arrival by lowering his fork.

"What did you find?" He asked.

"I apologise, my lord," replied Sebastian, dipping his head forward. "There were very few threads to follow. That particular perfume has become rather popular as of late, and I could find no mention of anyone currying favour in exchange for information on the Phantomhives."

"The perfume?" Ciel put another piece of salmon in his mouth and carefully chewed. "I've never smelt it before."

"It's become quite commonplace among the nobility, sir – Hammam Bouquet, I believe, worn in perfume buttons. Our list of suspects would include half of all London if we went on that alone. Of course, there was a second scent."

The earl cut into his salmon. Even the warmth of the fire did not touch his cold disposition. "It wasn't human, was it?"

Sebastian paused. He chuckled softly, and brushed the strands of hair from his face.

"No, my lord, it was not."

"It relates to this 'cat'."

"Yes, it does."

"And you know it's true identity," he observed. "That much is obvious."

"I suspect," the butler said, "but if I'm correct, then I doubt our messenger found much success in asking his aid."

Ciel set down his cutlery and turned to face his companion. On the walls he saw the portraits of his parents, his grandparents, and his ancestors before them; men and women who had built upon the proud Phantomhive name, a march of generations that had led to him. Their faces were cast over in shadow. Appropriate, he thought, for 'villainous' nobles.

"The time for games is over, Sebastian," he told him. "Tell me what you've kept from me."

The butler did not respond immediately. Instead he prepared his master's tea, his expression cool, calm, and his eyes closed with that soft smile curved on his lips. His hair framed his face and the light played across his skin as the hot water's steam curled around him. Ciel considered him a useful, diligent servant, but he often wondered the limits of his power. He could even admit, at least to himself, some small curiosity of his life before the pair met.

"Your tea, master," he said, placing the cup on the ornate table. The child stared at him with thinned lips, uncertain if he was toying with him.

Sebastian straightened his tailcoat and stood taller. Ciel wondered if he enjoyed trying his patience.

"I know of only one demon that could match that description," he said. "We call him the Gatekeeper."

"Then I suppose he's some sort of guardian?" Ciel reached over and took his tea. He sipped. "I hadn't thought Hell would have much need for one. Is he powerful?"

"The Gatekeeper is simply the name he's acquired, my lord. He was once a demon of immense power; a connoisseur, much like myself. We were well-acquainted. His cunning was impressive, and his contracts always weighted in his favour. That was before his fall, of course."

The cup made a small _chink_ against the saucer as the earl set it down. He cast a sideways glance at Sebastian.

"His fall?"

"Yes. Even we demons aren't immune to mistakes, my lord."

"I have no interest in his mistakes, Sebastian. Does he pose a threat to us?" Ciel questioned. The butler considered for a moment, his fingers on his chin as he looked off to his right at nothing in particular.

"Perhaps. Perhaps not." He replied, and to his master's irritated frown he added, "The Gatekeeper all but exiled himself after he fell. A scavenger such as he's become won't pose a significant threat in sheer strength alone; however, as I said, he has always been cunning. But we assume he accepted the terms of the contract."

"We can't operate on the hope that he hasn't," Ciel pointed out.

"No; quite, my lord. I knew him to have a certain distaste for them, but it's not outside the realm of possibility—"

"Enough. Speculation won't help us now."

The earl stood and went to the window. There, he looked out as the amber washed over his estate, turning even the fountain's water into streams of golden light. In the distance, the mist-filled forest loomed, untouched by the sun's dying rays. Sebastian watched him in silence. He was poised for another order.

"We don't have enough information to act," the child concluded. "Whoever it is that knows your true nature and wants you removed, their intentions are clear. They want to leave me defenceless."

"I assume we intend to disappoint them?"

The earl nodded. His hands were clasped behind his back, and in the window's glass Sebastian saw his faint reflection, how his lips were set in a stern, hard frown and his large blue eye was fixed ahead. "The Gatekeeper. You have reason to believe he wouldn't accept the contract?"

"As far as I'm aware, he hasn't taken one since his exile." The butler started to refill his cup.

"Then he may yet have useful information." Ciel let out a steadying breath. "Sebastian, I want you to contact him."

There was a noise; a teacup sliding from its saucer, as if it had been jolted. The earl turned in time to see his companion frozen for a moment, but his senses soon returned to him. He caught the cup before it could hit the floor. Not even a drop fell over its rim.

"That would be ill-advised, my lord." Sebastian said as he returned it to its place and set the china pot down.

"Are you refusing my order?"

"If you insist, I can make an attempt," he replied, "but his ritual is a complicated process, and an uncontracted demon should always be considered a liability."

"I'm no stranger to danger," Ciel reminded him.

"Of course, master, but it's best if I do this alone. As I said, I was well-acquainted with the Gatekeeper once. I may have more success if he isn't…" he paused and considered his words, "…distracted."

The child closed his eye as he thought on his proposal. He did not care to be left out of the loop, but he could not deny the wisdom of Sebastian's words. Their contract meant he could not lie to him, nor betray him, and he had faith in that at least.

"Fine," he conceded. "Then do it tonight."

* * *

Phantomhive manor was a labyrinth; rooms upon rooms that its master rarely set foot in, and were dusted and ordered as a matter of principle rather than function.

It was in one of these that Sebastian set about his task.

_A pentagram in constant motion._

He had drawn it in soot on an antique globe. It was placed in the centre of the room, where on each side it was surrounded by bookcases that stretched from floor to ceiling. Furniture had been pushed against them to provide him with enough space.

_The blood of a kitten._

The butler had not wanted to collect it himself. He had almost considered sending one of his fellow servants on the task, but it would raise questions – and Ciel had ordered him to do it.

_A circle of ash._

Once the fire had died out in the living room, he had collected the ash from its pit. He had once overheard some misguided fools discuss that ritual, popularised in cheap novels, claiming that it required crematory ash. Incorrect, of course. Any ash would do.

_A rat's tail, cut at the base._

Sebastian did not need it per se, but he found it amusing nonetheless.

The components assembled, he used a vial to drip the blood over the globe, and then sent it spinning. It span and span as he dusted the remaining ashes over it. Each grey speck floated for a moment – a memory of movement – before falling unceremoniously inside the circle.

His voice was low when he spoke. "Gatekeeper."

It was a slow process. The room filled with the smell of smoke and sulphur, and he heard a deep growl as if he had roused a dangerous beast from slumber. Tendrils of inky darkness crept across the floor, then it formed like a cocoon in the middle of the ash circle. Once it started to fall into thick, purple smoke, he saw the demon before him, sat on his legs with his hands pressed into his thighs, his head lowered so Sebastian could not see his face.

The Gatekeeper was once elaborate, but his form had become less regal over time. His feet were stilettos, and his body was sleek and slender, like a cat preparing to pounce. A mane-like, mauve plume of unholy energy framed his head, constantly weaving and waving as though it had a life of its own. The scent of something _other_ permeated the air around him. On each hand, his fingers extended into long, curved claws.

"You are as beautiful as I remember," the butler said with a wry smile, his hand against his chest as he bowed his head.

"This is humiliating." He rumbled, not raising his eyes to meet him. "Summoned twice, almost within the same breath, and helpless each time."

"It's precisely because of that first summoning that I need to speak with you," Sebastian told him. The demon chuckled, but it sounded as if it was laboured.

"I knew it was you," he said. "A demon-crow, he called you. How arrogant he was. I would have loved to consume him."

"But you were too weak."

Sebastian watched as the Gatekeeper stilled. In an instant he was in his face, and the butler saw his feline eyes, the slits and the pentagrams that swirled in endless circles within them.

"Don't forget what I was capable of," he warned. "We would do poorly as enemies."

"Enemies?" Once more he put his hand to his chest in feigned injury. "How dreadful. I've simply summoned you for information for my master."

"Master? You are a demon. Prey should never dictate terms for the hunter. But it's our way, isn't it?"

The Gatekeeper huffed a dry laugh and turned from Sebastian. His feet clacked against the floor as he looked at his surroundings. His shoulders were tensed, as if he expected to be attacked or chained.

"I require all you know about the man who summoned you," said the butler while he watched. His companion looked back at him.

"And why would I tell you that?" He asked. "I have no desire to be involved in your master's affairs."

"Revenge, of course."

The Gatekeeper straightened. His face held the question that did not leave his lips.

"I can see he wounded you," Sebastian observed. "He must have bound you. Painful, especially for us. Had you been at full strength, I have no doubt you could have easily broken your chains – but you aren't. A terrible thing, for a demon to be bested by a human. And a further stain on your name."

He raised his chin, fixing his eyes on the man before him. The anger he might have felt at the reminder of his failure had died under vague interest. "And you would offer me this revenge?"

"My master and I will ensure this human suffers before he dies."

Despite his assurance, he seemed to lose the Gatekeeper with his offer, for the demon shook his head.

"No," he said. "I will not have intermediaries act on my behalf. If I'm to have my revenge, I will deliver it myself, by my own hands."

Sebastian did not deflate, and through practice he managed to keep the disappointment out of his voice. "Then what terms are acceptable to you?"

"We don't make contracts with our own kind."

"Call it a courtesy, for old times' sake," he replied. Once again he had that wry smile on his face, and the Gatekeeper's eyes narrowed. "I need the information. If I disappointed my master, what kind of a butler would I be?"

He paused, gauging his response, how he held himself. The information he held was a significant bargaining chip, and even though their past was long and storied, he knew the ways of his kind.

"Then listen." He said. His lips curved, until Sebastian could see a flash of white, long teeth shining in the light of the candle. "This human deserves to suffer for his arrogance. I was once…I will not accept this stain as well. I will cross over, and I will help you, and in exchange you allow me his soul."

The butler's eyes widened a small amount. "You want to join us? Leave the tear?"

"It is my duty to watch over the hole I tore in our world," he acknowledged, "and I have accepted that life of scavenging. But that does not mean I will let a human sully my name further. _I_ am still the hunter. _They_ are still the prey. If I hadn't exhausted my strength in breaking free, I would have devoured him. But you most of all know how much I've sacrificed for my mistakes."

He shook his head.

"I won't suffer this as well."

Sebastian sighed, his lips falling into a frown.

"A demon unbound by a contract," he said. "I will have to consult my master, but I have reservations. I've enough concerns without a constant threat of my help being devoured."

"I don't want them." The Gatekeeper said. His voice was laced with venom. "I only want him. I would starve myself if it meant I was able to have my revenge."

"Very well," Sebastian nodded. "I will speak with my master and present your terms. He will decide if the benefits outweigh the risks. I, of course, will advise him against it."

"Territorial. And here I thought you might have changed. It's good to see I was wrong."

The demon returned to the centre of the circle. He stood expectantly, looking at his companion with those feline eyes, the curved, fang-filled smile.

"Return me home," he said. "I have preparations to make."

"You assume my master will agree to your proposal? How presumptuous."

"Not as presumptuous as offering me a rat's tail," the Gatekeeper replied, nodding to the component left forgotten on a nearby table. "Clever. Now, banish me."

Sebastian did so with a word, muttered low and under his breath. The demon vanished, and with him went the smell of the other, until all that was left were the stains of ash on the floor and the pentagram that would have to be cleaned. The butler sighed.

"He really is quite beautiful." He murmured in the silent air.


	3. The Maverick of Phantomhive

Ciel analysed the Gatekeeper's terms as soon as he sat down in his chair that morning. For hours he weighed his options, listened to Sebastian's counsel, and wrote a number of scenarios in which he might betray them. Of course, even while his pen scratched across the paper, the earl had made up his mind. If he refused to accept the bargain, the demon would never reveal his information.

"He's weakened," Ciel reasoned to his butler as the latter set out his mid-morning snack. Scones and clotted cream were placed in front of him, and he waited while Sebastian spread the jam to his liking. "We can control him."

"A human is no match for a demon, weakened or otherwise," he replied.

"But you are." The earl took his scone and spread the cream over the jam. Cold sunlight caught the silver of his knife, and he saw a sliver of his face reflected deep within. Sebastian nodded, though his lips were set in a soft frown, unenthused over the idea of policing another demon alongside his other duties.

Ciel bit into his snack. The sweet taste helped clear his mind, and as he chewed he considered the path ahead, mired in clandestine deals and dubious allies. He did not tremble at the thought. His role as the Queen's guard dog had desensitised him to such realities. But he rarely cared to be in such a precarious position, and he would prefer the matter handled before it interfered with his life further.

"I accept his terms." He said. "I'd rather we kill this man ourselves, but it could be satisfying to watch his soul being devoured. Perhaps it will provide me some insight."

Sebastian's eyes did not waver from his lord's face, and he smiled that smile that seemed at once ominous and haughty. "The Gatekeeper and I eat our meals differently, I'm afraid."

"There is one matter that still concerns me," observed Ciel, acknowledging his butler's comment only with a slight glance.

"Oh? And what is that, master?"

"The note mentions that the cat will catch the crow," he said, "but why send it if the Gatekeeper refused a contract? Was it haste? Is the Gatekeeper hiding his true allegiance from us?"

"Hm." Sebastian paused, delicately resting his chin on his finger as he thought. "I saw no seal, and it isn't customary for a demon to return to the underworld before the contract is complete. I doubt our assailant endeared themselves to him enough that he would break his exile. I believe we can attribute it to arrogance, my lord."

The earl's frown deepened, but otherwise his expression remained unchanged. "Regardless, I've made my decision. I trust that you can watch him for signs of betrayal. Phantomhive manor will host the Gatekeeper until the terms of our deal are met. Ensure the servants are prepared."

"Of course, master."

"I trust he's not so isolated that he can't blend in with humans?"

"I will need to persuade him to retake a human form, but we demons have long memories. I doubt he will have much difficulty establishing himself once he's convinced of its necessity."

"I suppose I should find a believable identity for him." Ciel sat back in his chair, his arms folded while he clutched his half-eaten scone in hand. "A doctor, perhaps? No – that would imply weakness. A visiting professor? Hm. I will need to think on it. Summon him, Sebastian; all other details can be discussed at a later time."

The butler put his hand to his chest and dipped his head forward, and on the assurance that his lord needed no further assistance he departed. In the silence, Ciel thought on the move he had just made. A risk, to be certain, but a calculated one; and with Sebastian at his side, he was confident that he would come to no harm at the Gatekeeper's hands. He almost heard his servant's voice chastising him as that thought crossed his mind.

_He is still a demon, my lord._

* * *

By the time he called him to return, the Gatekeeper had recovered somewhat from his binding. He did not appear on his knees, but his eyes were narrowed and expectant, silent as he faced Sebastian with a raised chin and straightened spine.

"My master has accepted your terms," the butler stated, to which his companion smiled and revealed the tips of his sharp fangs. "He informed me that you're to be treated as a guest in the manor until our business is concluded."

"Then we mustn't delay."

There was a flash of mauve light, and when Sebastian blinked he saw as smoke cleared and the choke of sulphur had all but vanished. Before him was no longer the cat-like creature he had known; instead, a man with mid-length seafoam hair stood, wrapped in a burgundy trench-coat with trousers as dark as the night. On his feet he wore knee-high chestnut boots, and underneath his coat a white shirt with a turnover collar hugged his torso, close-fit and impeccably clean. He still retained his sleek, slender shape, and in the butler's mind he fit the image of a well-to-do gentleman of respectable breeding – not someone that would seem out-of-place in a noble's manor. It would be his demeanour that would single him out.

"I hate human bodies," said the Gatekeeper, fixing him with eyes coloured a curious emerald-flecked hazel, "but I suppose it can't be helped."

"That took far less persuasion than I thought," Sebastian commented.

"I can still surprise you? I should keep that in mind." He raised his head. He was similar to the butler in height, perhaps an inch shorter. "I assumed I would be forced into it if I'm to join you. Was I wrong?"

Sebastian's wry smile curved, and he shook his head. "No."

"Good. Then I should meet with your master. But, first, I'm simply dying to know—"

He lowered his head, an eyebrow raised, and his expression was inscrutable.

"—What did he call you?"

"He named me Sebastian Michaelis; head butler of the Phantomhive household."

"Sebastian."

As he said the name, it seemed that there was a faint hiss in his voice. He mulled the answer over in his head, then opened his eyes and looked at him.

"Head butler. Impressive. I'm sure there were other contenders." He said, his voice flat and sardonic. "Phantomhive. I thought that some sort of moniker when my captor first used it. I've heard far too much of it since this all started. Humans. I should think of a name, I suppose. 'The Gatekeeper' may invite questions."

"My master is considering—"

"He isn't my master." The demon reminded him. "He can't baptise me."

He conceded his point. "No matter what you call yourself, our only goal is to end the threat to Lord Phantomhive. All else is simply formality."

The Gatekeeper paused to consider his options for a moment. Sebastian watched as he looked over his surroundings, his lips thin, a question in his eyes that never quite left his mouth. Then, with a self-assured nod, he returned his attention to the man before him.

"Felix Maverick," he said. The butler's eyebrow quirked. "It's a name, and one that won't invite speculation. But we've wasted enough time. I don't trust my pets to watch after the tear indefinitely."

The demon – Felix – moved at superhuman speed to stand in front of Sebastian's face, but he did not start at his sudden closeness. Instead, the butler focused on the fact he still had the slight 'other' scent about him; not so much that a mortal would notice, but it would be clear to divine and not-so-divine creatures he might come across that this was no mere man. He smiled, and nodded.

"Come, then, 'Felix'," he told him. "I'd be honoured to take you to Lord Phantomhive."

The Gatekeeper's sharp eyes glowed, and deep within two twin pentagrams faded into view, twirling in their endless circles.

* * *

Ciel's stare was piercing when Felix was presented to him.

It was the late afternoon, and the earl had retired to the drawing room after supper for a rare moment of peace. But when Sebastian had announced their ally's arrival, he all but forgot the solitaire cards laid out before him and concentrated on his new companion. The demon tilted his head to the side, his brow furrowing as he fixed Ciel with his own stare.

"_This _is what had my captor so riled?" He almost scoffed. "Your master is a child?"

"Gatekeeper," said the earl, "I've offered you the revenge you so dearly desire and allowed for you to join us, so now it's time that you fulfil your end of the bargain."

Felix came closer. When he did, Ciel felt a slight tickle in his nose, as though he were about to sneeze. The demon leaned down to more closely analyse him, and the child had to remind himself that he was weakened; that Sebastian could protect him if he suddenly attacked.

"I know very little," he admitted, but the earl had deduced that a possibility. "I can't tell you his face, his creed, but I can tell you what he wants. Why he intended to send me after Sebastian."

"Then tell me."

Felix was silent for a moment. Then, turning from Ciel to stand near a window, he looked out over the estate that was to be his home for the foreseeable future. It was beautiful, in the human way; he could imagine that the forests turned cold after sunset, and more than one mortal had died lost in the branches that seemed to stretch on forever, the frozen embrace of mists a blanket with which to wrap their corpse. Behind him, Sebastian admired the weak, fading sunlight that haloed his frame, and for a moment he remembered him in the past – a past that seemed ever more absurd in the face of what he had become.

"From what I overheard while I was bound," Felix broke the loaded silence, "he plans to usurp your position. He covets your power. The mystique that shrouds your name."

"He wants the company?" Ciel ventured, but his companion shook his head.

"No," he replied. He turned to him, and the earl thought of a tiger readying itself to pounce, powerful and mesmerising; beautiful in its raw ferocity. "He plans to overtake the Phantomhive name. He wants to become the Queen's watchdog."


	4. A Brief Absence

His accommodations were comfortable. Felix imagined if he ever chose to sleep, he would not find it difficult on the four-poster bed his room was outfitted with, or be irritated by the sun when the heavy curtains were drawn shut. He had not slept in ages, though. He could not see that he would do so now.

Sebastian had led him there after his discussion with Ciel. The pair had been silent up until he opened the door for him, and then he had offered him a formal, butler-esque smile that told him he was not pleased about his master's decision.

"This should be comfortable enough, Professor," he said, to which Felix's brow rose incredulously. "It's best that we familiarise ourselves with your new title as soon as possible. After all, we can hardly afford a slip. Humans are so very distrustful."

"A professor." The Gatekeeper drew further inside his room and eyed it with a weary disdain. His hands were tucked inside his pockets and his thin lips were pulled tightly in a frown. "At least it isn't a doctor."

He roved for a while more, inspecting all of the furniture, the slight idiosyncrasies that Sebastian had recreated in the wear of wainscoting, hidden when one merely glanced and did not observe. Felix came to a final halt near his window, and down below he saw a gardener finishing his day's work. His waifish shoulders were draped with an overly large straw hat, his clothes dusty with soil, but his mouth was curved in a cheerful smile that beamed against the waning sunlight.

Sebastian watched as he cocked his head to the side. He was statuesque in his silence; a professor in a gaudy romance, erudite and brooding. Demons were masters of deceit, and the Gatekeeper had a wealth of experience from which to draw from.

"An interesting life," he commented after a while. "I'll admit some small curiosity. It's rare to find a child with such…particular enemies. And a demon for a servant? This Earl Phantomhive seems to have inherited a dangerous name."

"Will there be anything else, Professor Maverick?" Sebastian asked. Felix was motionless, staring down still on that peculiar, golden-haired servant, before he shook his head.

"No," he replied. "That will be all, Michaelis."

The butler dipped his head and reached out to close the door. It shut quietly on the Gatekeeper's image, and once he heard the soft _click_ of the lock Sebastian paused for a moment. He raised his hand, then lowered it once more.

With a chuckle and a shake of his head, he went down the hall, leaving all thought of Felix for his duties.

* * *

The Gatekeeper did not attend breakfast, which Ciel commented on as Sebastian served it to him. In fact, he remained in his room for most of the day – a fact confirmed by Finnian, who had seen him in the window on occasion, admiring the forest with an inscrutable expression on his face.

"If he aims to be believed as my guest," said Ciel after he had retired to his drawing room for his evening tea, "he should act as a guest would." The butler poured hot cinnamon spice into his master's cup, which he picked up with a vaguely displeased frown on his lips.

"If you should prefer he participates—" Sebastian started, but he was cut off by a scoff from the earl.

"I don't care myself," he informed him. "On the contrary, I find it refreshing to have a guest that doesn't require constant attention. But if we're to convince others that he's truly a professor enjoying Phantomhive hospitality, he'll have to act the part."

"I assure you, Lord Phantomhive," came a voice from the door. Both Ciel and Sebastian turned their heads to see the Gatekeeper, his hands in his pockets and a wry smile on his face, "that when the need calls for it, no one will be able to discern my true nature."

"Felix," he noted as the demon came further into the room. "I almost forgot you were with us."

"Blissful, I'm sure," he replied. "I've been contemplating all that you told me of these 'Aristocrats of Evil'. My captor doesn't appear to number among them, but he clearly has the resources to gather himself a small following – and he's clever, for a human."

Ciel gestured for him to take a seat on the opposite chair, and as Felix settled in a grimace crossed his expression. Sebastian prepared him tea, to which the corners of his mouth quirked and his eyebrow rose ever-so-slightly.

"So you believe he's not a member of the underworld?" The earl asked.

"The difference between the underworld's members and victims is how much money one walks away with after dealing with it," Felix pointed out, taking the tea set out before him. He sipped, and despite reading his features Ciel could not discern if he liked the drink or not. The demon was as adept as Sebastian in keeping his true feelings hidden. "He's a member insomuch as he's financed himself through some sort of illegal activity."

"And you overheard all of this?"

"It's an educated guess," he admitted. "It's been some time since I walked among you, but in my experience nobility has a certain…bearing. He was wealthy; nothing more."

Sebastian, who had taken up his customary spot beside Ciel, looked at him with a cocked eyebrow. "Interesting. A man who managed to accumulate such wealth and escape our notice all the while would be a dangerous foe indeed, master."

"Yes," the earl acknowledged with a nod of his head. "So it's in our best interests that we discover what he traffics in and remove that source of income. You say he has a following?"

Felix flicked his hand dismissively. "I tore apart more than a few of them when I escaped."

"But you have no idea quite how many are behind him?" The butler clarified, to which his companion conceded and shook his head. Ciel closed his eye, his lips a line across his face, and took a moment to consider the information presented to him.

"We have no idea how prominent this man is in the underworld," he said, "and so I can't trust that my contacts haven't allied themselves with him in an attempt to overthrow me. This can't happen. The Phantomhives control England's criminal syndicate, and that's how it will remain until—" he paused. Sebastian looked down on him, and Felix noticed a strange glimmer in his eye; an acknowledgement of their contract, perhaps, but not quite the emotion he would associate with it.

The child opened his eye once more and fixed it on the man in front of him.

"There's one man I know will tell me the truth, should I pay his price," he stated. "Tomorrow, we depart for London. Felix, you will join us. As you know more about this man than anyone else – which is still an abysmally small amount—" The Gatekeeper heard the vitriol hidden in his voice, but he did not rise to it as he lifted his teacup to his lips and sipped. "—it's pertinent that we have you with us."

The demon nodded and set down his cup. He stood, half-turning to the door in preparation to depart their company.

"Then I will see you at dawn, Lord Phantomhive," he said. He made to leave, but Ciel stopped him with a raised hand.

"Wait." He said. Felix considered ignoring him, but he stilled and listened. "I would prefer you join me for a game of cards, Professor Maverick."

"Why?"

"It's important that we all adhere to our roles, even when no one watches us," he explained. "Come. Sit down. Sebastian, will you fetch me my cards?"


	5. Old Faces in New Places

In the train window, the Gatekeeper watched the grim, dark clouds cluster overhead, and the rain splatter against the glass as the countryside rolled past them.

It had been an early start; at dawn, he had met the little lord and his butler at the carriage, and without so much as a word they had clambered inside and set off for the station. Once he had settled into his seat in a cart shared with Ciel and Sebastian, it was not yet eight o'clock.

"So," said the earl, to which Felix looked up from his gazing, "you and Sebastian have a history, clearly."

The professor's smile was wry, but did not reveal much. He leaned forward to rest his hands on his knees and did not respond with words, though his eyes all but bore a hole into Ciel's. Beside his lord the butler was silent, his stare fixed upon Felix's face as if in warning.

"You're the first I've heard of his life prior to our contract," the child explained with the air of one who did not wish to admit his own curiosity. "He's never mentioned you – or much about the underworld at all."

"As is a demon's prerogative," he replied, amusement on his features. "Our world is not meant for mortals, and so it's beyond your comprehension. But I'll admit, your attempts to pry are delightful, so I'll humour your questions. Yes, Sebastian and I were close once."

"I find it hard to believe that demons can be close."

"As I said, we are beyond your comprehension," he said. "I often wonder how you can live with such limited senses. Our version of 'close' is…different, shall we say. To explain further would only confuse you."

Ciel's mouth thinned, but he did not rebuke his companion's response. "Then it would be a waste of time. We'll reach London soon, regardless."

"Yes, master – in exactly fifteen minutes and thirty-three seconds, barring any rail disruptions," said Sebastian as he slipped a pocket-watch from his breast pocket. "Professor Maverick, I trust you've thought on the finer details of your role?"

"I'm a professor of ancient history, returning from a long sojourn in the United States," Felix told him. "The Maverick family has ancient ties to the Phantomhives, so it was decided I would enjoy your hospitality – to honour our past, as mortals are so fond of doing."

He rested against his seat and looked once more out of the compartment's window. In the distance he saw the first hints of London; where nature fell to industrialism, and buildings rose up to encroach on trees, meadows transforming into wide roads and smog rose in the air. Sebastian noticed as his nose wrinkled.

"Is there something the matter, Professor?" He asked, but he did so with an almost malicious smile that all but curled at the corners of his mouth.

"The smell," he replied. "It's foul."

"You'll become accustom to it, I'm quite sure," the butler told him.

"Perhaps. I hope to be finished with this venture before it comes to that."

* * *

The station was crowded with people; ladies in petticoats and small bonnets and men in frock coats, their hair peaking out of the brims of bowler hats. Felix walked alongside the earl and his butler with mild interest in the world around him. He realised from the moment he stepped out of the compartment that people's eyes were on them. How amusing, he thought, that mortals could notice him but not discern his true nature.

The streets were no improvement. Crowded and uncomfortable, he followed his companions as they all but cut a path through the masses, and with a shake of the head Ciel glanced at him.

"Having trouble, Professor Maverick?" He asked in his flippant manner.

"Not at all," he replied. "I was just admiring London. It's been quite a time since I last saw it."

Soon, the trio had turned a corner from the main street and traversed down a smaller, cobbled road, bordered with dusty shop windows and faded lettering. Each house reminded him of crooked teeth in a filthy mouth, and on the corners urchins played, their faces black with grime and their clothes held together by a few stitches at most.

"Are we close?" The Gatekeeper questioned after a series of alleys and forgotten back roads.

"Yes," said Ciel. "It's just around this corner."

They turned the bend, and once more the road widened and the buildings became a touch sturdier. Brick and mortar stood, freshly repainted, and shops were cleaner with their doors open. There was but one exception; a wider, stouter building near the middle, almost hovel-esque, with no windows for light to filter through and a heavy door surrounded by coffins and tombstones to ward off intruders. Felix had a terrible sense the closer he came towards it. A large purple sign had been fixed above the door with the words 'Under taker' written in stark letters, adorned with a single skull.

"Here we are," said Ciel as he came to a halt. "No doubt our associate is inside. Sebastian, the door."

The butler reached towards it. Felix felt his hackles rise, and he resisted the urge to hiss as the knocks died in the suddenly still air. His hands clenched into fists inside his pockets. But he could not quite pinpoint the cause of his reaction, and so when the door groaned open to an almost impenetrable darkness, he followed Ciel without pause.

* * *

Sebastian had not been quick enough to stop the Gatekeeper's charge forward.

It had happened in a moment. He had stood beside Ciel, the foul stench of formaldehyde and arsenic invading his nose, as his eyes became accustomed to the sudden gloom. But then he had seen him – the long, stark white hair that covered his eyes, the dull top hat and cloak and maniacal grin – and the reaction had been instant. Before either the earl or the butler had realised he had moved, Felix had the Undertaker by the throat and had slammed him through the lid of an empty coffin.

"_You_." He hissed. His eyes glowed, and deep within the pentagrams appeared to swirl in their unending circles. But the Undertaker merely smiled, showing the white tips of his teeth as his hand clutched the demon's wrist.

"My, my!" He choked. "It's you! It's been ages, hasn't it?"

Felix's grip tightened. Ciel looked up at Sebastian, whose face betrayed his surprise, and tapped his cane on the floor.

"Sebastian!" He commanded, which snapped him out of his trance. "Stop this before the idiot kills him."

The butler surged forward and clutched the Gatekeeper's shoulder. He pulled him back, which loosened his grip around the Undertaker's throat just enough for him to slip free and slide to the floor. He sat on his knees for a moment, rubbing his neck, while Sebastian held Felix back from lurching forward.

"I'll kill you, you snivelling little—" He spat, but the Undertaker only laughed.

"Well, Earl, if this isn't a surprise!" He said as he leapt to his feet. "Here I thought that today would be much of the same, but in you come with that butler of yours, and you bring me a little memory! A real blast from the past!"

"What are you talking about?" Ciel asked.

"Yes," said Sebastian, forcing Felix back once more. "I'm quite curious as well. How do you know Professor Maverick?"

"Professor Maverick? Is that what they're calling you now, old chum?" He cackled. The scar on his cheek rose up into his hair, and he touched it with a tilt of his head. "He's the one what gave me this scar! A real battle! Centuries ago now, it was!"

Felix came forward again, blocked by Sebastian's shoulder. "It caused a tear in our world!"

"Oh, that's right – so it did!"

"Hold on," the butler put his hand to Felix's chest. It made him pause, and too late did he realise his mistake before he had shoved him backwards. He skirted across the floor and crashed through two thick coffins, dust blooming out as the sound of wood crunching and glasses shattering filled the air. "Is that how it happened?"

"You don't know?" The Undertaker swung to look at him. "He and I were after the same soul. When we caught it scurrying off, we had a clash, and tore a huge hole in the fabric of dimensions – as all good fights do. I still remember the look on your face! Brings a tear to my eye!"

He devolved into earth-shattering laughter, and Felix charged once again to be stopped by Sebastian. He strained against him, but his waned power did not allow him to break free of the restraint.

"As amusing as this is," said Ciel once the Undertaker's cackles had subsided, "we came for a reason. We need information, and I believe you might know something."

"Of course, of course," he waved his hand, hidden in his oversized sleeve, "and since I've had my fill, I'll give it, free of charge!"

"Good. Sebastian, can you restrain him?"

"I may need to tie him down, master," admitted the butler. "Weakened or not, he's proving _quite_ persistent."

"Then do so. Undertaker, if you'll listen to my questions—"

Felix still fought as Ciel stepped forward.


End file.
